


Of Frogs, Cinders, and Princes

by Himmelreich, Keibey



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Fairy Tale Retellings, Gen, I would like to personally apologise to the Gebrüder Grimm for mangling their stories, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5384897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himmelreich/pseuds/Himmelreich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keibey/pseuds/Keibey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a talking frog in the well, and a fake princess at the ball.<br/>There is a loyal servant, and two loathsome stepbrothers.<br/>And there is a prince, each, who has to deal with all of this.</p><p>---> And they lived happily ever after (?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Frog Prince; or: The Iron Harklight

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to all of you (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ ~~Yes, it's Christmas according to European tradition already, shut up Britain~~. 
> 
> Winter is allegedly the best time for fairytales as the days get shorter and colder, so in honour of this proud tradition, have this KeiRei collaboration project. (Do not confuse with Kirei as in Kirei Kotomine - to my best knowledge neither of us is an ax-crazy morally corrupt priest. _Yet._ ) I honestly don’t remember how all of this started, but I’m pretty sure it was Keibey’s fault, as per usual. 
> 
> Both her story and this one are based on fairly commonly known fairytales, but the fun to them is that their non-Disney versions tend to be a lot more, uhm, unique. I adapted this take on the “Princess and the Frog” straight from the Brothers’ Grimm’s _Die schönsten Kinder- und Hausmärchen_. Therefore, all translation of original phrases was done by me, please send any and all complaints to my home office. You can find it [here](http://regnumcaelorum.tumblr.com/post/135850981348/der-froschk%C3%B6nig-oder-der-eiserne-heinrich).

In old times, when some people still believed in miracles, there once lived a young Queen who had a beloved little brother. Their parents had died a long time ago and ever since that day, the Queen had ruled the country whereas the young Prince served as her advisor army commander. He was so well known, feared and respected for his extraordinary strategies that even experienced enemy leaders who had seen their share of battlefields tended to surrender immediately once they heard he was going to lead the troops.

Now, when days in the kingdom were peaceful, the Prince liked to take solitary rides on his chestnut war horse Sleipnir. On one particularly hot summer day, his expedition lead him into a large and dark forest near the castle, and in the middle of it, half overgrown with an old dog-rose bush, he discovered a long-forgotten well. He decided to rest there for a bit, and he unsaddled his horse and settled down at the rim of the well, enjoying the cool and calm atmosphere. 

When he got up again after some time, he accidentally brushed against the heavy horse harness lying on the rim of the well, and he could only follow with his eyes as it plunged into the water and vanished in the dark. The well was deep, so deep that he could not even see the bottom of it.

He sighed, leaned over the smooth surface and began muttering under his breath the math it required to determine the depth of the water by tossing a stone down and counting the seconds until it audibly would hit the bottom, while not forgetting to factor in the viscosity of the water and the Archimedes’ principle of the water level rising with every item that fell into it.

As he was still debating whether it would be better to walk back to the castle and return with additional equipment and help, suddenly someone called out to him: “What’s wrong, Prince? You keep mumbling such nonsense to yourself, I doubt even scholars would understand.” 

The Prince looked around, searching for where the voice might come from, and finally spotted a frog who poked his small, angular head out of the water of the well.

“Nothing,” he replied. “I’m just trying to determine the best way to retrieve my horse’s harness which has fallen into the well.”

“There’s no need for you to make it this complicated,” the frog said, “I can help you. If you untie the rope from the bucket up there and toss it to me, I can tie it to your harness and you can pull it up.”

The Prince eyed first the old wooden well roof, then the frog with some suspicion, but then nodded. The frog looked content, as far as that was possible to tell with an amphibian.

“But if I help you retrieve your possession, what do you give me in return?”

“Whatever you want,” the Prince said, “an official army recommendation, a considerable monetary reward, even the ceremonial crown I’m never wearing is fine.”

The frog replied: “Official army recommendations, monetary rewards, your ceremonial crown, all of that I don’t need. But if you agree to take me with you and treat me as your equal, if I may stay at your castle and live the same life you do, then I’ll dive into the well and see to the return of that harness.”

“Deal,” the Prince said, “I promise you anything you want if you manage to help me.”

He thought, however, that such an unusually cunning and verbose frog was not to be trusted in the first place and that the should go on and say whatever he wanted - he would remain sitting in the water would never be a companion or ally to a human.

Once the frog had received the promise from the Prince, they worked together to first remove the bucket from the old rope and then the frog dove into the water, staying submerged for a long, long time. The Prince waited patiently until there was a tug on the rope, and as agreed on beforehand, he carefully and slowly pulled up the heavy gear, surprised but happy to find that the frog’s plan had worked out.

As soon as he had retrieved it, the Prince saddled his horse again and rode off.

“Wait, wait!” the frog called after him. “Take me with you, I can’t keep up with that speed! You promised to help me in return!” But what use was it to him that he tried to appeal to the Prince’s conscience, as that person had already made up his mind and returned home to the castle straight away.

 

 

Several days later, however, as the siblings and their royal household had just had sat down at the dinner table, someone stealthily made his way up the stairs to the castle, unnoticed by the guards. Once he had reached the top, he knocked at the door and called.

“Prince, open the door for me!”

The Prince was confused as to who it might be outside, calling for him. But as he walked over and opened the door, he recognised the frog from the well. The Prince slammed the door shut again and sat back at the table without showing a single sign of distress.

The Queen was curious about what had happened and asked: “Inaho, who was that? A friend of yours?”

“Ah, no,” Prince Inaho replied, “it’s not a friend, it’s just an ordinary frog.”

“What does a frog want of you?”

“You see, Yuki, when I was taking a rest by the well in the forest the other day, Sleipnir’s harness fell into the water. While I was still debating what to do, the frog helped me get it back. And he insisted on me promising I’ll take him with me and make him my equal. I didn’t actually think he would leave the water and follow me, but now here he is in front of our door.”

In that exact moment, the frog knocked again, more insistently this time.

“Prince, open the door for me! Don’t tell me you don’t remember what you promised me the other day at the well! I’m not your enemy, so open the door for me!" 

Queen Yuki said: “I have to say, Inaho, that’s not very nice of you. If you make a promise, you should keep it, no matter whom to. Go and open the door for him.”

Inaho sighed but did not want to disagree with his sister. He went and opened the door, and the frog immediately leapt inside, glaring at him. 

“I should have known better than to trust the word of someone of the Terran Kingdom”, the frog said as he hopped towards the table. Prince Inaho just wordless followed and without asking picked up the amphibian, putting him down on on the tabletop.

“My, what a tiny thing,” Queen Yuki said, and the frog bowed his head to her in greeting, “I really don’t understand why you refused to take him with you, Inaho. He’s adorable.”

“I knew nothing about him, so bringing him here might have posed a risk,” Prince Inaho said, but the frog just huffed in anger.

“I don’t mean any harm to you or your household,” he promised, “I only want to be treated equal to your kin. Do you have any more siblings?”

“No, it is only my little brother and I,” Queen Yuki said, and the frog sighed, murmuring to himself: “Well, so be it, then.”

As Prince Inaho tried to take the opportunity to leave as the frog was talking to his sister, he called after him: “Prince, take me with you!” 

Prince Inaho narrowed his eyes in irritation but did not want to disappoint his sister, so he picked the frog up once more and carried him to his room.

He put him down on his desk and turned his attention towards studying strategies and sciences as usual, but it was not before long that the frog hopped on to the book he was reading, breaking his concentration.

“I know you dislike my presence, and trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I had any other way, but if you comply with one more request, I promise I’ll leave you in peace from then on.”

“And what would that be?” Prince Inaho asked, hoping for a quick solution to this problem. 

The frog assumed as much posture as possible in his pitiful state and declared: “I need you to kiss me.”

Prince Inaho blinked and then in one quick movement threw both the book and the frog sitting on it against the nearest wall with the practiced precision of a trained archer. 

“I refuse,” he began to say, but the words died on his tongue as when the creature hit the wall, what dropped down no longer was a frog but instead a young man with handsome features and bright eyes, sparking with anger.

“What on earth was that for?” the stranger snapped as he stood up from his crouched position with as much dignity as possible, a hand pressed to his forehead which had connected with the solid bricks quite forcefully.

“There are frogs whose skin is covered in deadly poison which will instantly kill you should you ingest it or get it into your blood stream,” Prince Inaho replied automatically, still looking at the sudden apparition in open amazement, “you might have been sent to poison me, so there was no way I would take chances.”

“I’m not your enemy,” the man said with clear exasperation, and only then did he seem to realise he no longer was an amphibian, staring at his hand with wide eyes. “I do not understand, why did the curse break from this?”

“A curse?”

“I was cursed by a witch and she told me the only way for me to regain human appearance was by being kissed by someone of my rank. I assume she dumped me in this country thinking that since there aren’t any Princesses among the royal family, there wasn’t going to be a way for me to break the curse,” the man explained as he picked up the book that had been flung at the wall alongside him and handed it back to Prince Inaho.

“You said someone of your own rank,” Prince Inaho repeated, taking note of the elegant and expensive clothing the other was wearing that only in some places was still covered with duckweed.

“Right, allow me to re-introduce myself,” the man said, giving a short bow. “I am the first Prince of the Moon Kingdom, Slaine Saazbaum Troyard.”

“Then you’re an enemy after all,” Prince Inaho said, as the Vers Empire and the Terran Kingdom had been fighting each other in the past, but the other shook his head.

“Neither the Vers Empire nor the Moon Kingdom wish for a new war with your nation, and even though you probably did try to kill me just now, my gratitude for you accidentally breaking the spell is sincere. Please allow me to contact my servants in the Moon Kingdom and I will be out of your hair before you know it.”

“Alright, let’s do it like this,” Prince Inaho agreed, “but first, let me tend to that wound on your forehead.”

 

 

Several days passed, and as he had initially been promised, Prince Slaine was now received at court as a noble of equal rank and a guest of honour. Once he had recovered from his collision with the fortified castle walls, Prince Slaine accompanied Prince Inaho during his daily work, proving a capable officer and strategist in his own right, and the occasional disagreement aside, they got along well. 

One morning, then, a carriage arrived at the castle, pulled by eight white horses that were the fastest in all of the Vers Empire, and their harnesses were made from pure silver.

Driving it was the most trusted servant of the young Prince, his loyal Knight Harklight.

The loyal Harklight had been so devastated when his master had been transformed into a frog and then disappeared all of a sudden that he had begged of a good fairy in the Moon Kingdom to fasten three bands of iron around his heart so that it would not burst from pain and sadness.

As he saw his master back in human form and in good health, the Knight fell to his knees and thanked whatever good graces had helped break the curse, enabling the Prince to return to his rightful place.

“I owe my rescue to Prince Inaho breaking the spell,” Prince Slaine said, knowing better than to mention the specifics of how this had transpired for Harklight would seek to repay every injury dealt to his master tenfold.

“Then you have my gratitude as well, foreign Prince,” Harklight said.

When Prince Slaine then turned to say his goodbyes to Prince Inaho, the other suddenly gave him the kiss that had been requested but never given.

“Just to make sure the curse is truly broken,” Prince Inaho said with a smile, “and next time we meet again you won’t have transformed back into a frog.”

“I’m not foolish enough to fall for the same sorcery twice,” Prince Slaine said sheepishly, and added: “Should it happen, though, I now know who to turn to for help.” 

Prince Slaine then boarded the carriage that would take him back home and they had barely made half a mile when he could suddenly hear a horrible cracking sound as if something had broken. He leaned out of the window and called: 

“Harklight, I fear the carriage is breaking apart!”

“No, my Lord, not the carriage but a band around my heart which has suffered great pain knowing you’vee been sitting in a far away well, transformed into a frog.”

And just then, the sound repeated once more, and then a third time, and both times Prince Slaine feared again for the state of the carriage. But it was only the iron bands that burst off the hear of the loyal Harklight because he now knew his master to be saved and happy.

 

 

As Prince Inaho watched the carriage depart, he could not help noticing the severe damage to the rear axle, doubtlessly caused by how fast the loyal servant had hurried to pick up his master. And sure enough, not even a few minutes later, a fourth great crash and yelling could be heard from not too far away.

Turning towards the servants in waiting, Prince Inaho instructed: “Please ready the guest rooms, I guess the departure of Prince Slaine Saazbaum Troyard has been delayed by higher powers and he'll be staying with us until his coach has been repaired. I’ll go pick them up, so please saddle Sleipnir.”

And to himself, he thought the fact that due to lack of funding, the roads leading to the Moon Kingdom had not yet been repaired had come in handy in the most unexpected and convenient way.

 

 

 


	2. Cinderella; or: The Crossdressing Servant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second one loosely based on a story from the same collection: Cinderella! Unlike Rei, I can't read German, so I used the English version available [here](http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm021.html)!
> 
> It is tradition to open one present on Christmas Eve, and then all the others on Christmas Day, so here's the other one!

It all started on a quiet day, at the funeral of a researcher. 

Slaine stood in front of the grave, one hand clutched around the flower and the other around the metal pendant. “Goodbye, father,” he whispered and let go, watching the petals break apart as it hit the wood of the casket. He took a deep breath as he stood aside, avoiding their gazes as the others paid their respects. It didn’t seem to end- 

“I’m very sorry for your loss.” The delicate voice made him look up, and he struggled to find a smile for the blond girl who had approached him. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, trying to place the girl in the sea of mourners. Surely he would have remembered her if he had seen her before. He glanced back at the grave, and then at his feet. “I’m honestly not sure what would happen now.” 

“You needn’t worry,” she assured him, “I’ll make sure you won’t be alone.” 

Slaine opened his mouth to ask, bemused, but a stern voice cut in before he could speak. “Princess, we must leave.” 

The girl nodded to the man, and turned back to him with a sad smile. “Farewell.” Slaine hastily echoed her, awe keeping his otherwise tongue-tied as he watched her leave. 

The next day, Slaine opened the door to find a messenger on his doorstep. “I am here to escort you to your new household,” the woman said, her eyes flicking up and down his frame critically, “The Princess requested it.” 

“New household?” he echoed in confusion, and the messenger looked like she wanted to sigh. 

“Count Crutheo will be your new guardian.” Slaine blinked, mind reeling as the woman ushered him into the awaiting carriage. 

“I got adopted?” he asked, uncomprehending, “I have a new father?” 

“I suppose,” she answered, but her tone was doubtful. 

The mansion was large, and Slaine had to tilt his head back to take in the spanse of it. The messenger lead him to the study, and the two men lounging on the divan turned to him, predatory curiosity in their gaze. He swallowed nervously as the man seated behind the desk looked up to spear him with cold blue eyes. “This is the boy?” 

“Yes, my liege,” the messenger answered. 

“I will be straight to the point,” the Count stood, circling around the desk to stand in front of Slaine, “You will not take my name. I agreed to take you in at the request of the Princess, but the only station fit for a commoner is that of a servant.” Slaine felt himself go cold at the words. “Trillram and Marylcian will supervise you; you can refer to them as your ‘stepbrothers’ outside. Do you understand?” He nodded numbly, jumping at the slam of the cane against the floor. “As long as you are within my household, you will mind your manners.” 

“Yes, sir,” he answered hurriedly and awkwardly sank into a bow. 

“You are dismissed.” 

“Yes, sir,” Slaine repeated quietly, climbing to his feet. As he turned to leave, he tripped and fell to the ground. The two men on the divan burst into laughter, the dark haired one pulling the outstretched leg back. 

“How clumsy,” the other flipped blond curls flippantly, “You better not break anything, mongrel!” 

Slaine stood without a word, teeth wearing into his bottom lip. The messenger didn’t say a word about the incident the entire time she grudgingly gave him the tour of the house, pointing out his new room and the various other places of the manson. That night, Slaine curled up in the hard bed under the thin blanket, shivering in the draft, until he gave up and pulled the sheets and pillow down to the floor to sleep by the hearth. 

The seasons passed unremarkably, his work lasting from morning to night, the only difference marking the days being how his two stepbrothers tormented him. It was when Trillram had purposefully upended a dish of cookies onto the floor of the study and Slaine was cleaning it that he first heard of the festival at the palace. 

“The prince must be a piece of work if he needs help finding a bride.” Trillram’s voice was hard to miss, mocking and loud. 

“The Princess is carefree, throwing such a lavish party for a foreign prince,” Marylcian commented idly over the tea, “And the invitations are open to anyone, too; there will be all sorts there tonight.” 

Slaine bit his lip to keep from speaking; the Princess was going to be there. He quickly swept up the rest of the crumbs and bowed, just managing not to sprint as he made his way to Crutheo’s study. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, trying to catch his breath, “The festival, at the palace - may I go, please?” 

The man didn’t spare him a glance. “A servant has no right to go to such a gathering.” 

“It’s open to everyone,” Slaine insisted, and the blue eyes cut to him. 

“It is not up for discussion,” Crutheo’s tone was cold and sharp, “You have neither the clothes nor manners to be seen outside, and you are covered in dust and ash.” Slaine brought a hand to wipe at his face, his fingers coming out grey with soot. “Go back to the duties you’ve abandoned, boy.” 

The gaze bore into him, and Slaine finally slumped. “Yes, sir.” Not wanting to be in the house, he left the study and went straight into the farthest corner of the estate, sitting under the hazel bush. A bird had chosen a perch in the branches beside him, and it eyed him curiously. “I only wanted to see her again.” 

The hawk cocked its head to one side then the other, and then took flight without warning, almost startling Slaine off the bench. He watched it bank sharply, a destination clear in its mind, and wondered if he could ever be that determined. The neighing of horses brought his attention to the grooms readying the Count’s carriage, and for a moment he considered trying to convince the footman to trade places with him for tonight. 

The Count’s coach was just pulling away from the manson when Slaine heard the sharp cry of a hawk, and he looked up to see the bird circling above him, heavy fabric blooming out behind it. He rushed to automatically catch the bundle when the hawk dropped its burden, and he looked down at it quizzically to find that it was a dress, stunningly intricate with gold and red embroidered into the navy fabric. The bird landed on its branch again, a pair of heels dangling from its beak on a gold string. The shoes were sewn with silk and gold; the workmanship was exquisite and must have cost a fortune. 

“Where did you-” Slaine his head, feeling silly for trying to ask a bird a question when it obviously couldn’t answer him. He looked back down at the gown, an idea forming in his mind. No one would recognize him if he went to the festival as a girl. The only problem was he had no way of getting there. 

Feeling more than a bit ridiculous, he looked at the hawk. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could get a horse?” The bird cocked its head again and then spread its wings, giving a cry before shuffling its feathers. It wasn’t exactly a resounding yes, and Slaine sighed, looking away to the stable. His eyes widened at the sight of a four horse coach rolling up the hill towards him, the driver’s expression a mask of boredom. It pulled to a stop in front of him, and he hastily swung up into it before anyone could spot them. 

The moment the door closed, the coach began to move, the horses taking off much faster than should have been possible considering how smoothly the carriage moved. Slaine quickly began pulling his tunic over his head and shucked off his breeches, struggling to slip the dress on. The familiar cry of the hawk sounded, and he opened one of the windows to see it flying in time with the coach, heels dangling from its beak. He stuck his hand out, and the bird dropped it, the string hooking perfectly over his arm. “Thank you!” 

The coach glided to a stop at the palace gates, and a footman came to open the door for him. He gave the man a queasy smile as he stepped down, glad that the heels felt exactly as normal shoes. The courtyard was full of people, and as he stood there at the steps, he realized that the dance was taking place there. 

“Would you give me the honour of this dance?” 

Slaine whipped his head to the side and saw the dark haired boy who had spoken. They looked like they might be around the same age. “I don’t know how to dance,” he murmured, remembering at the last moment that his voice would give him away. 

“You’ll only have to follow.” The brown eyes flicker over Slaine’s shoulder, and then the boy grabbed his hand with a quiet, “Pardon my forwardness.” He didn’t have a chance to say anything before the brunet pulled him onto the dance floor, and he found himself expertly spun away from the edges of the dance. 

“You’re conspicuous,” the brunet said, “It’s unusual to see a lady unchaperoned. The guards are suspicious.” 

“Oh,” was the only thing Slaine could say. 

“Wave to the lady in green.” The boy slightly inclined his head to the side, and he hesitantly did as the brunet asked; the lady waved enthusiastically back, and he could see the guards wavering. 

“How did you-” 

The boy shrugged. “She’s a friendly drunk.” 

They glided across the floor, the boy obviously aiming to merely cut through the crowd, and they parted at the other end without much ceremony. “You’re right, you can’t dance.” Slaine opened his mouth to reply indignantly, but thought better of it at the last second. “Nevermind that. Follow me.” 

“Wa-” 

Slaine found himself being led through a hall into a balcony overlooking the courtyard, and the brunet let go then. “You’ll be safe here for now.” The boy didn’t seem particularly concerned with being left with him without any guards, but Slaine couldn’t dwell on it, having caught sight of the Princess below. He leaned over the railing, trying to follow her movements as she stepped into the palace. 

“If you can prove you’re not here to assassinate her, I can arrange an audience.” Slaine turned to stare wide-eyed at the brunet, but the boy’s expression didn’t change. “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it.”

“Who are you?” Slaine asked, feeling suddenly apprehensive. 

“Kaizuka Inaho,” the boy said blandly, “the prince of Deucalion.” 

“The prince-?” 

Inaho shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious.” That much was true; the navy coat was handsomely tailored and embroidered elaborately with silver, the feel of the material fine and smooth under his fingers. The only thing that didn’t fit was the bland expression. 

The clock tower began to chime, the bells ringing deep and unavoidable, and Slaine looked over at the clock face with surprise. Was it already so late? “I have to get back,” he said unthinkingly, and at the questioning noise from the brunet, he added, hurriedly, “There’s no time.” 

“I can-”  
Shaking his head, Slaine backed away towards the doors. “Excuse me, Your Highness.” He turned tail and ran, ignoring the brunet’s soft voice calling after him. He had to get back before the Count and his stepbrothers discovered that he had disappeared. 

Outside the gates, he looked around and couldn’t see the coach anywhere in sight; footsteps were following him down the stairs, and in a panic he jumped into the pigeon coop outside the walls. The pigeons startled and took flight, flying every which way, and Slaine took his chance. He hopped out the back and was relieved to see the carriage pulling up, and hurriedly he swung himself in. 

He spent the journey hastily pulling off the dress and heels in exchange for his normal, dusty servant outfit. The material seemed incredibly rough after the fineness of the gown, but he didn’t linger over the thought as he gathered it up in his arms and scooped up the shoes, the hazel bush quickly coming to view. Slaine got off the coach before it had fully stopped, throwing everything at the foot of the tree, under the hawk. 

“I’m sorry!” he said as he hurried towards the house, hearing the bird give a scolding chirp in reply. 

Out of breath, Slaine managed to get into the foyer in time to see Crutheo and the other two men walk in, and he carefully took their coats. They seemed to be engrossed in some gossip about a mysterious princess - at least, Trillram and Marylcian was. The Count frowned at him. “Clean yourself up, boy.” 

Trillram looked at him and burst out laughing. “The mongrel has feathers!” 

Slaine’s hand flew up to his hair, feeling the soft down of pigeon fluff. “My apologies, I was cleaning the pigeon coop,” he lied quickly, and he was almost too relieved that they were too focused on mocking him to ask about anything. 

The next day passed agonizingly slow as Slaine waited for the Count and the others to leave for the festival. He waited by the hazel bush and watched the Count’s coach be readied, the hawk’s hazel eye watching him curiously. “Do you think the offer still stands?” The bird shuffled its wings almost like a shrug, head swerving to watch the Count’s carriage pull away. It gave a little cry and took wing, and Slaine waited patiently until it circled back with another dress. As it fell into his lap, he saw that it was different today, in a grey that almost seemed to shimmer when the light caught it just right, and carefully threaded through with red and gold. The shoes matched in a grey that was almost silver, and he heard the same four horse carriage roll up the hill for him, just as yesterday. 

“Thank you,” Slaine smiled at the bird before he got in, and settled in for the journey. 

When he arrived at the gates of the palace, he felt a little overwhelmed; there seemed to be many more lights than last night, and the dance was already in full swing. 

“May I have this dance, milady?” 

It was so similar to the night before, Slaine almost expected to see Inaho standing there with calm brown eyes and a hand extended - it wasn’t the brunet though, instead a blond man with wavy hair and a kind smile waiting for his reply. Slaine froze, unsure of what to do. It was obvious the man was of nobility, maybe a Count - 

“She is my dance partner.” The soft voice came with a gentle hand on his elbow, and Slaine relaxed at seeing Inaho there. “I apologize for having to stepped away.” 

Slaine nodded quickly, holding onto the lifeline. “My apologies, sir.” 

“No harm done,” the man assured him courteously, “Perhaps I will have the honour later tonight.” 

“Perhaps.” Inaho’s voice was flat. Slaine remembered to curtsey lightly before the brunet pulled him away, and the Count returned it with a graceful bow. “I thought you wouldn’t come.” 

“I was delayed,” Slaine answered truthfully, eyes flitting over the crowd. 

“The Princess isn’t here,” Inaho said quietly, and then frowned. “Let’s talk elsewhere.” 

“Aren’t you looking for a bride?” 

“I’m not interested in a wife.” The brunet was surprisingly candid, not a moment of hesitation before the answer. “My sister had told me time and time again I would be a diplomatic disaster.” 

They had arrived at the balcony again, and Slaine leaned against the railing, taking in the view. He spotted the Princess off in the gardens, seeming to be enjoying the festivities. Crutheo was standing beside her, and Slaine couldn’t quite suppress the shudder of fear. 

“If you’re cold, we can go back in,” Inaho suggested. Slaine faltered, not sure if he should try to lie; the brunet seemed to notice his indecision, and the brown eyes shifted away. “Chaperoned, of course. You don’t have to worry.” 

For a moment, Slaine could only stare, and then he laughed. “You should be more worried about being alone with me.” 

“I don’t doubt there are all sorts of rumours about me already.” 

Slaine didn’t have a chance to answer, having caught sight of Crutheo and his stepbrothers moving away from the gardens and towards the gates. He turned to the brunet, and there was a knowing look in the brown eyes. “I have to leave.” Not daring to linger any longer, Slaine dipped quickly into a clumsy curtsey and started retracing his steps at a run. He wavered for a moment at the edge of the crowd before taking a breath and plunging in, weaving in between the dancing couples. 

At the other side of the dance floor, he glanced back and spotted the brunet, standing out from the others in white and blue, the silver catching the light. Slaine turned around and rushed down the stairs, relieved when the coach pulled up right as he arrived. He climbed in quickly and scrambled to switch back to his servant clothes. 

He tumbled out of the coach near the tree, and he spared the hawk a grateful look as he left the dress and shoes, sprinting back into the mansion through the kitchen to greet the Count. They didn’t question why he was out of breath, carelessly throwing him their coats. 

The hours of the next day seemed to crawl, moving so slowly Slaine was convinced that there must be something wrong with him. He watched Crutheo leave with his stepbrothers from the bench under the hazel bush with unusual nerves, glancing up at the sky for any sign of the hawk. A breath of relief escaped him when he saw it bank closer, and he reached out to catch the dress it dropped. The gown this time was made of a deep red silk, decorated with gold and maroon and white that looked silver, and Slaine ran his finger over the threads wondrously. 

“Where do you get all this?” Slaine asked as the hawk landed onto the branch beside him, golden heels dangling from its beak. The bird cocked its head, listening but apparently not inclined to reply. He shook his head and took the shoes, standing up as the carriage stopped beside him. “Thank you, my friend.” 

It was ridiculous how he was getting so used to switching outfits in the swaying carriage, but he had much time to spare before they arrived at the palace. Slaine had barely reached the gates when a guard stopped him, and he tried not to panic. “Prince Kaizuka had requested that we escort you to him, princess.” 

Slaine opened his mouth to protest - _princess?_ \- but caught himself at the last moment. Meekly, he nodded and followed the guard, wondering if he should assume that they had found out who he was, but he recognized the halls. It was almost unsurprising to emerge through the doors to room with the balcony over the courtyard. The door opened moments later, and Inaho stepped in. 

“Seylum-san, this is my dance partner.” The brunet stepped aside to let the Princess in, and Slaine was rooted in place when she smiled at him. 

“Inaho had spoken fondly of you.” 

It was the same delicate voice from all those years ago, For a moment he forgot to respond, but he snapped out of it fast enough to drop into a clumsy curtsey, stuttering, “I-It’s an honour, Your Highness.” 

“She’s painfully shy,” Inaho cut in, coming to stand beside him. A gentle hand guided him to a chair by the fireplace, and the Princess took the other. 

“Please don’t feel pressured to speak,” she reassured him gently, “Will you be interested in hearing more about Deucalion? Inaho was kind enough to indulge me with stories about his kingdom.” There was something reassuring about the warmth in her voice and the presence at his shoulder, and he found a genuine smile for the Princess this time. 

“I would love to.” 

The feeling of safety was so strong, he hadn’t noticed the time slip past until the deep voice of the bell shattered the calm atmosphere, making Slaine jolt upright in his chair. How could it already have been hours? “I must go.” 

The Princess looked startled. “Oh-” 

“I’m very sorry!” He stood and started for the door, running as fast as he could through the halls; Crutheo seemed to have less and less for the festivities every night, and there was no telling if the Count would have stayed so late. 

Slaine was already at the stairs past the palace gates when he stumbled and the left shoe slipped off his foot. He paused, torn between retrieving the golden shoe and fleeing, but his mad dash had caused a commotion, and the guests were coming to the gates to see what was happening. The carriage pulling up made the decision for him, and he abandoned the shoe in favour of climbing into the coach. The gown snagged briefly in his hair when he gracelessly yanked it over his head, and he cursed quietly to himself before forcing himself to slow down. 

When Slaine had finished changing, he stuck his head out of the carriage and felt his stomach drop to his feet at the sight of the Count’s coach already at the front of the mansion. He spotted the hawk circling above, and waved it down, watching it land gracefully in the ledge of the open window. 

“I apologize for losing the shoe,” he said, but the bird didn’t seem concerned, shrugging its feathers nonchalantly, “I’ll have to visit your tree tomorrow. Thank you for everything.” The hawk cocked its head and then hopped to the side, allowing him to open the door and climb out. Slaine hit the ground running, and he managed to stumble into the study just as Crutheo and the two men were taking a seat. 

“You’re late,” Marylcian sniffed haughtily, “Go fetch us some tea, mongrel!” 

“Right away, sir,” Slaine answered with a bow, glad that that was the extent of his scolding. 

It wasn’t until the next morning that Slaine realized a scolding should have been the last of his worries - the whole household was in a frenzy, and Slaine didn’t know what had happened until he had been summoned to the largest room along with every servant of the mansion. Inaho was standing there in a pure white coat, seemingly ignoring the deep frown Crutheo was wearing. 

The moment their eyes met, Slaine knew that the brunet had recognized him. 

“You had said you wished to find your mysterious princess, but I fail to see why all the servants had to be gathered,” Marylcian looked defensive with arms crossed and a scowl. “You expect one of them to be able to fit the shoe?” 

“If that was the only parameter for the search, it would be too vague,” Inaho said flatly, steps calm and measured as the brunet walked to stand in front of Slaine. “I just needed an excuse.” 

“You’re just putting up a farce?” Trillram’s voice was almost shrill with indignation, “How could that mongrel be the woman you’re looking for?” 

The Prince turned to face the man. “We could check with the shoe if you’d like.” Slaine looked uncertainly at Crutheo, and at the curt nod, let himself be seated at the chair that they had placed in the middle of the room. It surprised him when Inaho himself kneeled carefully down to pull off the dusty boot and slip the golden shoe onto his foot. 

“You can’t take me for a bride,” he protested, feeling his face heat from the weight of all the stares. 

“I don’t need one,” Inaho said, unconcerned by the shocked faces in the room, “Yuki-nee is older and attracted to men; she can continue the line.” Uncertain of what to say, Slaine could only watch as Inaho carefully switched the shoes back and stood to offer him a hand. He considered it, wondered at it, until at last he took it and stood. Slaine thought he could see the barest of smiles on the brunet’s face. 

Inaho turned to face the Count, expression smoothed into the same bland one from before. “We’ll take our leave, Count Crutheo.” 

The Count nodded, lifting the cane to block Trillram from stepping forward. “Would you shame Vers by acting out?” The icy eyes cut to Slaine. “Do not regret your decision.” 

“I won’t,” Slaine answered evenly, and he bowed before leaving the mansion. 

“That wasn’t the warmest household,” Inaho commented mildly as the carriage began to move, and Slaine laughed. 

“No, it’s not.” 

“Then I wouldn’t have to worry that you would be homesick.”

The coach passed by the hazel bush at that moment, and Slaine spotted the hawk perched on its branches. “Thank you,” he said quietly. The bird took flight, circling above them once in farewell before disappearing into the blue sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _And if they haven't died, they're still alive today._

**Author's Note:**

> >>>> _And if they haven't died, they're still alive today._


End file.
